Your brother is in a band with three of his other friends, and like every Friday night, you go to your garage to watch them practice. Your brother greets you with a small nod when you sit to your usual spot. The other two boys are talking, but you can feel the piercing green eyes of the drummer, Ezra. You didn’t know much about him. He had those wild brown curls and those unique features. He was really thin, your brother made jokes about that sometimes. The only times you would see him other than those Friday nights was when he skipped class to smoke. He would always talk with that one red haired guy you didn’t know anything about. All you knew now, was that the same eyes that are so focused on his drum when he plays, that look at his cigarette with anticipation before taking a puff, that look so genuine when talking to his best friend, are looking right at you.